Chapter 27 #2
“Girl, please.” Narri wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close again.
“You ain’t weak. You’re just cracked open right now.
It’s a difference. Weak is pretending nothing got to you.
Weak is refusing to face what happened. You?
You just finally feeling all of it and vulnerable.
That’s not weak, that’s strength. It takes a very strong person to relive what you been through, to forgive and let go. Ain’t shit weak about my friend.”
“I just…I don’t want to be stupid.” Sabine rested her head on Narri’s shoulder.
“You’re not stupid. You’re just in love with a man who fucked up terribly…
but…you know we together forever, and I got your back, wrong or right, but if…
if I had to play devil’s advocate,” she began, and Sabine turned her way.
“You could’ve talked to him too, Best.” She held her hand up before Sabine could protest. “I know. I know. You called me damn near every day about that man but when he came home? You was quiet as a church mouse. I’m not saying he didn’t owe you more, and I’m not saying he shouldn’t have noticed.
But what if…what if he was just as lost as you were?
What if he was drowning too and didn’t know how to say it? ”
Another ugly truth. One she never said aloud but carried, folded and hidden under all the bigger wounds.
A truth that didn’t scream but still pulsed beneath her skin.
Adair’s fuck-up was louder. Louder than everything.
It was final, it was damn near violent in its timing, in its selfishness—but –it wasn’t the only thing that broke them.
It was just the last.
Still…there was a lead-up. A slow storm gathering and she had been part of it, too.
A piece of her knew that. Always had.
“I’m not excusing shit,” Narri added quickly.
“I’m just saying…just like he could’ve thrown you a life vest, you could’ve tossed him one too.
He’s at the bottom right now because of what happened with Ariyah, but maybe it’s time to talk about why y’all marriage was even underwater by then.
What had y’all that far gone when you went into labor in the first place? ”
The bar was elevated—literally and a vibe.
Twinkle lights zigzagged overhead as city sounds softened beneath them.
Sabine sat perched on a high stool, legs crossed, fingers tapping against a chilled glass of mezcal and lime.
The rooftop bar was packed just enough to feel alive but not crowded—cool jazz playing from hidden speakers, candles flickering on tables, and the “staying late at the office” crowd looking for a simple wind down after a long day.
Harlan was already two drinks in and still sharp. There was something casual about him tonight—button-down open at the collar, blazer off, watch glinting every time he lifted his glass. He was so smooth to Sabine. Like a black James Bond.
“I needed this drink so bad,” she said, exhaling.
“Rough day?”
“Long,” Sabine nodded, eyes trailing the skyline. “Emotionally long. You ever have one of those days where your heart and your head just…don’t match?”
“Too often,” he said, clinking his glass to hers. They drank to that, letting the moment settle.
Sabine sipped slowly, the salt from the rim catching on her lip.
She smiled faintly as Harlan leaned back, stretching his arm along the rail.
There was an ease between them now—unforced.
She wasn’t performing, wasn’t holding her breath.
Just naturally present and that, in itself, felt like a kind of luxury.
They made small talk for a few minutes, chatting about the music, a couple who’d been loudly flirting across the bar, and Harlan’s mild obsession with good tequila. Eventually, the conversation circled back—inevitably—to work.
“I hope it won’t be weird with my ex-husband overseeing the contracts…” Sabine blurted, almost surprising herself. The mezcal had loosened her tongue or maybe it was just the way Harlan’s presence made her feel safe enough to be honest.
Harlan raised an eyebrow. “Adair Dayne.”
“Yes. My ex-husband, I’m sure you know.”
“I do…should it be…” he tilted his head. “Weird?”
She laughed, short and unexpectedly. “Probably.”
“Because of the ‘ex-husband’ part or the ‘overseeing the contracts’ part?”
Sabine hesitated, then gave a little shrug. “Both, I guess. It’s…complicated.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who avoids complicated.”
“I don’t. I just don’t invite it anymore.”
Harlan nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.”
Sabine’s thumb traced the condensation on her glass. She didn’t look at Harlan when she asked, “Do you know the co-counsel on Aderra?”
“Not directly.”
“You’ve heard of…Corrine Thatch, though?” Sabine finally let their eyes meet.
“Yeah,” he took a sip of his drink with a nod. “She’s pretty sharp. Why?”
Sabine let out a soft breath through her nose, eyes back on the skyline. “She’s the woman my ex…ummm…”
Harlan didn’t need her to finish, even if she had tried to. He caught the shift in her voice, the subtle waver of it, how her exhale barely made it out evenly. He’d been around grief before. He knew the sound of a wound trying not to reopen.
“She’s the one,” he said quietly.
Sabine nodded once, barely. Her voice was low, like she was speaking just for herself.
“It wasn’t even the affair. It was…everything surrounding it.
The way I went hiding, and he didn’t come seeking.
The way I gave birth alone and he didn’t answer.
The fact that she was with him while I was…
” She trailed off, blinking hard. “While I was losing everything.”
Harlan’s jaw tensed, but his eyes stayed soft. He didn’t jump in with sympathy. He didn’t offer any fixes. He just let her speak.
“It was when I was at my lowest. That’s what I can’t forget.”
“And that,” Harlan said, leaning forward slightly, “is fair. That’s not bitterness, Sabine. That’s memory. Something unforgettable and we all carry shit like that.”
“You’re a lot more emotionally intelligent than most men I meet.”
“That’s because I ruined the love of my life,” Harlan said without blinking.
She blinked several times, surprised by his candor.
“I have learned…” he paused. “Want to know why I’ve been married three times?
” he asked, voice calm. “Because I didn’t fight hard enough for the one woman who made everything make sense.
And when I lost her, I started collecting versions of her in people who couldn’t hold a candle.
Women I didn’t love fully. Women I tried to love halfway.
Women who didn’t even ask for that much, and I still gave them less…
she was everything. Kind. Brilliant. Challenging in the best way but I let her wait too long.
Kept putting ambition before commitment.
Told myself it’d all come together one day, and by the time I realized she was the one thing I never wanted to lose, she was already walking away. ”
“Did you try to stop her?” Sabine asked softly.
“I did,” he admitted. “But not loud enough. Not clear enough. I thought showing up late was better than not showing up at all. She disagreed and she was right.”
Sabine tilted her head. “And now?”
“Now I live differently,” Harlan said. “Not because I think she’ll come back. She won’t but because if someone else ever gives me that kind of grace again, I won’t waste it.”
They were quiet for a long moment.
Then Sabine whispered, “I think I want to forgive him.”
The same truth she’d given Narri earlier that day.
“You’re allowed.”
“But I hate how that feels.”
“Like surrender?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “Like betrayal. Of myself. Of what I survived.”
Harlan nodded. “Because you made strength your shield and forgiveness feels like putting it down.”
“Exactly, oh my gosh, that’s it exactly.”
“Maybe don’t put it down,” Harlan said. “Maybe loosen your grip, just enough to squeeze him in a little bit. Forgiving him doesn’t mean you forgot what he did. Or that it didn’t hurt. It just means your heart is healing, even if your mind’s still catching up.”
Sabine didn’t speak. She just listened.
All she could think was: how the hell did Adair get Narri and now Harlan on the same damn page? They were both dragging her, soft and slow, but still. Eating her up with this truth.
But hearing it from Harlan hit different. He didn’t know Adair. Didn’t know her, not really. He wasn’t loyal to either side. He could’ve played dirty, on her feelings and emotions but he didn’t.
And maybe that’s what made it land the way it did.
“You’re not weak for that,” Harlan went on. “That’s strength. Real strength and maybe, just maybe, he’s supposed to be part of the healing too. Sometimes the person who broke it has to help fix it. Not because they deserve the chance, but because it’s the right thing to do. For you.”
Sabine exhaled.
“You don’t owe anyone a final answer tonight. Not even yourself.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“For being…normal. For being kind. For listening. I think I’ve gotten so used to protecting myself that I forgot what this felt like,” she gestured between them, “—just having a real, easy conversation. That’s rare to have with a man these days.”
“I like being human with you,” Harlan said. Not flirtatious. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a woman in my life I could be like this with. No pressure.”
“You’re a good man, Harlan.”
He nodded once, eyes steady. “I try to be.”
They both paused, letting the weight of the night sit between them. Sabine glanced at her watch and sighed.
“I should probably head out before I start oversharing and crying.”
“Wouldn’t judge you if you did.”
“I know,” she smiled. “That’s the problem.”
They both laughed at that—soft and tired but full of mutual respect. Harlan reached for his wallet.
“Let me walk you down?”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Sabine stood, grabbing her purse from the back of her chair.
As they made their way to the elevator , she thought about how, for all the tension they could’ve leaned into, they never did.
Harlan never revisited that night at his condo.
Never pressed. Never dangled possibility in her face like bait.
Sure, he flirted with his eyes in passing, texts or during private meetings but more than not, he left the ball in her court and never so much as glanced at the scoreboard.
And Sabine—she just never took the shot.
Not because she didn’t like him. She did. She respected him. Trusted him. She even felt something like warmth when she saw his name light up her phone but Harlan wasn’t the reason her heart still fluttered when it shouldn’t.
After everything they shared tonight, she knew he understood that now. Understood that some loves don’t really end—they just get buried under grief, betrayal, and time. And some women, like her, could be single and still belong to somebody else.
Harlan didn’t take it personally. That’s what made him who he was.
And for that—for this night, and his presence—Sabine was quietly grateful. She didn’t know what was next but for once, she didn’t feel rushed to figure it all out.